


Ragdoll

by Zai42



Series: Displacement [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crying, F/M, Femdom, Pegging, mild pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Daisy makes good.





	Ragdoll

"Oh--Daisy, I didn't know you'd be here today."

  
Daisy pauses at the base of the stairs, turning slowly on her heel to face Basira. She looks surprised but not displeased, and Daisy sees the way her eyes rove over her, taking in her appearance, lingering on the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "Last minute thing," Daisy says, shifting her weight slightly. "Gotta talk to Sims. I'm surprised you're still here," she adds. It's already past five. She knows Basira is calmer about their situation than most people would be, but she had still been imagining her fleeing the Institute the very second her "work day" was over.

  
"I'm going to grab drinks with Melanie and Martin," Basira says. "Do you...want to join us? We can wait, I think Martin's trying to convince Jon to--"

  
"No." (Maybe she'd want to if it were only Basira.) "I don't know how long we'll be. Don't want to make you wait."

  
"Oh. Sure, maybe another time."

  
Daisy has known Basira long enough to know when she's disappointed, regardless of how calm she sounds. "If anyone deserves a break, it's you. We'll catch up soon." Daisy smiles in a way she hopes is reassuring, but which might be threatening, she's not sure anymore. But Basira smiles back and nods before turning to leave, and that's good enough.

  
As Daisy approaches Sims' office, she hears Martin's voice saying, "...think you could use a break." She turns the corner to see Martin and Sims heading out into the hallway, and leans against the wall, watching them. Sims has noticed her; Martin hasn't.

  
"I'm not going to be too late," Sims says, and his expression softens as his eyes go from Daisy back to Martin. "Go. Don't worry about me."

  
"But I _do_ worry--" Martin starts, painfully earnest, but Daisy shifts, clicks her boot heel on the floor loud enough for him to notice, turn, and startle at the sight of her. He glances from her to Sims and back, biting his lip. Eventually, his politeness wins out and he nods at her. "Hello, Detective," he says (even though she isn't, anymore). "I was just..." He trails off, looks back at Sims, and sighs. "Just leaving," he says. "Good night."

  
Daisy watches Sims watch him go, then pats his shoulder in mock solidarity as she moves past him into his office. She dumps the duffel bag on a chair as Sims locks the door behind them. He's silent as she rummages through it. She can feel him, eyeing her curiously, waiting to see what she pulls out of her bag, but they have a system by now; he's quiet until he's pinned beneath her, then he can be as loud as he wants, ask whatever questions he can think of to ask, provided they aren't about "work." She doesn't mind answering him when all the questions pertain to the ways she likes to hurt him.

  
"Come here." He does, and Daisy tangles a hand in his hair the second he's close enough, twisting cruelly and forcing him to his knees. He winces but goes easily enough. "Help me get this on." The harness for her strap-on is a complicated leather affair, with enough buckles and straps that frankly Daisy regrets buying it, but she isn't going to tell Sims that. He gets it on her easier than she expects, though, especially since she still has a hand in his hair, holding his neck at an odd angle. "Not your first rodeo?" she asks as he tests the give of the thing. The look he gives her borders on salacious, and she snorts. "Up."

  
She lets go of his hair, spins him around, and bends him over his desk, fitting her hips up against the curve of his ass. They're both still clothed, and she hasn't put on the toy yet, but he still lets out a shuddering breath, glancing at her over his shoulder with his cheek pressed against the polished wood. "Stay."

  
She roots through her bag again, pulling out a bottle of lube, which she places on the desk by Sims' head, and then three dildos. She gathers these up, stalks around the front of the desk, and holds them out on display for him. "Pick one," she says. His eyes immediately flicker towards the largest, but he flinches and nods at the middle one, which is slightly less monstrous. "Good choice," Daisy says blandly, as she fits it into place. "This one vibrates."

  
She pauses as a thought occurs to her, then nudges the bottle of lube into Sims' hand, stalks around the back of the desk, and drapes herself in his desk chair. He glances over his shoulder at her, brow furrowed, and she smiles slowly. "Get yourself ready," she says, gesturing flippantly as he turns an unflattering shade of pink. Sims is awkward about stripping in front of her--no sultry seduction from this one, just shoves everything down past his hips in one swift movement--but Daisy still watches vigilantly, meeting his eyes and quirking an eyebrow when he hesitates.

  
She's about to urge him on when he finally breaks away from her gaze, slicking up his fingers without looking at her. His eyes flutter shut as he slowly fingers himself open, his blush deepening, little choked off noises tumbling from his parted lips. Daisy leans back in the chair, watching him with the motionless intensity of a predator, learning the way he curls his fingers, how he arches his back, the way his voice hitches when he presses deep enough. She gets up silently--he's too distracted, doesn't notice her moving until the blunt tip of her plastic cock is pressed up against his hole. She pushes forward, just slightly, just enough to barely threaten to press inside along his fingers, and Sims lets out a shaky moan, burying his head in the crook of his free arm.

  
While Daisy slicks up her cock, he pulls his fingers out and holds himself open for her, and she has to bite her lip against an appreciative noise. Instead she thrusts into him with one punishing movement and he cries out, voice trembling and breathless. "Good?" Daisy asks, rolling her hips in slow circles. She almost regrets leaving her jeans on under her harness. She didn't think he would be so...interesting.

  
"Y-yes," Sims chokes out. He pushes back against her to punctuate his point; his cock is full and heavy between his legs, untouched and dripping copiously.

  
Daisy laughs darkly. "You really are a skank, aren't you, Sims?" she says. She snaps her hips, setting a ruthless pace, and he clutches at the desk with both hands. He nods in agreement, letting out a thin whine of confirmation, and Daisy laughs again, leaning over his back to press her lips right up against his ear. "Just a needy little slut under all that inflated ego," she whispers. She pins him by the neck to the desk as she straightens, relishing the sound that draws out of him.

  
Sims squirms and twists in her grasp, and Daisy can't tell if he's meant to be struggling away or pressing closer; either way, she pins him more firmly and slows her thrusts. She watches the slick silicone sink into him, inch by agonizing inch; when she pulls back, she lets the head pop out and he groans, high and desperate, while she rubs it lazily against his hole. He's so open and sloppy that pressing back into him takes no effort at all; Daisy slides her middle finger into him alongside her cock, expecting a protest, but his legs only part wider, his moans grow more eager.

  
"Christ," she mutters. "I could shove anything in you and you'd just take it." For a moment she has the mental image of him splayed out on the desk, sobbing while she worked a second dildo into him. She bites her lip, smirking, and flicks on the vibrate setting instead.

  
Sims cries out beneath her, spine arching up; she puts him down harshly, grinding forward indulgently so the vibrator presses against her clit through her layers of clothing. And then she pounds into him, merciless and rough and hard, until he scrabbles against the desk and _howls,_ stops wriggling and just takes what she elects to give him, a choked noise forced out of him with each thrust.

  
When he is finally, literally, sobbing against the wood of the desk, legs trembling, mostly held up by Daisy alone, she slides a hand between his legs. She barely brushes her fingertips along his cock--she thinks it's the implicit permission more than the actual touch that has him coming with a strangled cry. She fucks him through it, then perhaps a minute longer than necessary, just for good measure. He doesn't immediately straighten when she pulls out and away, but he does reach back and gingerly press two fingers to his abused hole, wincing.

  
When they've cleaned up and Daisy has zipped everything away in her bag, she straightens. Sims is examining his desk, standing stiffly, and looks up when he feels her eyes on him. His own eyes are reddened, lashes still damp, but it's hardly the first time Daisy has made him cry.

  
"Wait ten minutes," Daisy says, and turns to go.

  
"There's no point," Sims replies.

  
Daisy pauses with her hand on the doorknob, her lips tightening. "Humor me," she says, and leaves him alone in his office, staring at his watch.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Very Model of a Healthy, Sane Relationship


End file.
